Barbarophonos. Language and Panhellenism in the Iliad

Barbarophonos : Language and Panhellenism Panhellenism in the Iliad

Author(s): Shawn A. Ross Source: Classical Philology, Vol. 100, No. 4 (October 2005), pp. 299-316 Published by: The University of Chicago Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/500434 Accessed: 17-05-2017 00:09 UTC JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].

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BARBAROPHONOS :

LANGUAGE AND PANHELLENISM IN THE ILIAD shawn a. ross

T

he extent of panhellenism in

early Archaic Greece provokes considerable disagreement. Although it is widely agreed that full-fledged Panhellenism had emerged by the beginning of the Classical period, the nature—and even the very existence—of earlier proto-Panhellenism remains the subject of debate. Examination of one important component of mature Panhellenism—language—in what is arguably the earliest available literary source, the Iliad, should serve to illuminate the extent and saliency of Panhellenic identity in the eighth century b.c.e. Although the speaking of different languages is only rarely acknowledged in early epic poetry, the Iliad included, the instances of linguistic diversity that do occur in the Iliad follow a consistent pattern. On the one hand, Akhaians and Trojans communicate freely with one another; no hard linguistic dividing line between Akhaians and others emerges over the course of the epic, nor does it appear that the later, categorical Greek-Barbarian dichotomy has yet emerged. On the other hand, through poetic emphasis or suppression, linguistic diversity is limited to the Trojan ejpÇkouroi (allies or companions) defending the city, while it is absent from the Akhaian forces besieging Troy. This differential treatment of Akhaian and Trojan forces reveals a notion of “pan-Akhaian” linguistic uniformity, distinct from the cacophony of the Trojan host, perhaps indicating the coalescing of a non-oppositional but shared Greek identity. Even though no language barrier separates Akhaians from Trojans in the epics, the selective recognition of linguistic diversity among Trojan ejpÇkouroi, versus the homogeneity of the Akhaians, offers a glimpse of an undeveloped and unstable proto-Panhellenism. Anyone employing the Iliad or Odyssey as an historical source must grapple with two related difficulties: uncertainties over the date when the poems reached more or less their final form and over the date of the society from which the world of the epics is principally drawn. Opinion varies widely on both issues. 1 1. Nagy argues that the poems did not reach a “definitive” form until the sixth century b.c.e. (1996, chap. 2, esp. p. 42). Still, according to Nagy’s “evolutionary model,” the amount of acceptable variation among oral poets declined significantly after the end of the eighth century, as the poems became more widespread and well known; accordingly, Nagy resists dating any possible “world of Homer” to later than the eighth century b.c.e. (ibid. 20, 39–42). See also Donlan (1980, 1), Snodgrass (1971, 434–36), and Morris (1986, 93), all of whom accept the eighth century as the society underpinning the epics. Finley chose the tenth and ninth centuries b.c.e. for the World of Odysseus, although he believed that the poems were composed in the

Classical Philology 100 (2005): 299–316

[ç 2005 by The University of Chicago. All rights reserved] 0009-837X/05/10004-0001$10.00

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Dates from the eighth century to the sixth have been proposed for the composition or finalization of the poems, while dates from the Late Bronze Age through the seventh century have been put forward for the historical society reflected in the poems. The controversy is complex and involved—and perhaps ultimately irresolvable or even irrelevant. 2 I believe, however, that the poems as we have them substantially p reserve versions current during the late eighth century, with the Iliad perhaps somewhat earlier than the Odyssey. I have settled on these dates not only because the epics appear, linguistically, to be earlier than other Greek poetry, but especially for the reason Gregory Nagy proposed: that by about 700 b.c.e. the poems were so widely diffused that opportunities for recomposition would have been limited by the expectations of a large, diverse, and informed audience. 3 Regarding the date of the historical society underpinning the epics, I consider the world depicted in the Iliad and Odyssey to reflect, with some exceptions, common aspects of Greek-speaking civilization during the three generations leading up to the time when the poems’ content stabilized. More specifically, the features of interest in this paper—the rise of Panhellenic sentiments as reflected in the speaking of different languages in the Iliad — reflect the historical moment when the poems reached their present form, around the turn of the eighth century. Oral tradition assimilates, forgets, and modifies different types of information at different rates. Physical things, be they objects or places, are much more durable in oral tradition—hence the appearance of boars’ tusk helmets and the preeminence of Mycenae in the Iliad . By contrast, so long as it is evolving through recomposition, oral tradition only tends to retain information about institut ions and relationships so long as they are immediately relevant to the poet’s audience or relate directly to contemporary social structures. 4 Furthermore, such abstractions are often manipulated by the poet to explain or justify contemporary conditions, express group identity, or legitimize rights and privileges. 5 Precise linguistic arrangements (and the epics are very consistent in this regard) represent just such an abstraction, evolving rapidly through recomposition until

latter half of the eighth century b.c.e. (Finley 1979, 16, 48). Van Wees offers a later date for both the composition and setting of the poems, arguing that Homer’s world (in both senses) was that of the early seventh century (van Wees 1992, 58). Crielaard (1995, 273–76) offers a similarly late date, as well as an excellent overview of the controversy. 2. See Graziosi (2002), who not only provides an overview of both modern and ancient debate concerning the dating of Homer, but problematizes the entire effort to date Homer—and any attempt to discover a “real” Homer more generally. Even Graziosi nevertheless admits the legitimacy of exploring the development and stabilization of the epic tradition, so long as one is careful to “scrutinise one’s assumptions and reduces to a minimum what is taken for granted,” advice that I hope I have taken to heart in this essay (Graziosi 2002, 243; see also chap. 3, esp. pp. 90–93, and the conclusion, esp. pp. 236–37 and 243–44, for a discussion and critique of the modern debate over the date of Homer). 3. Nagy 1996, 39–40; see also Scodel (2002, 44–45), who supports Nagy’s dating. 4. Vansina 1985, 24, 114–23; Morris 1986, 87; Donlan 1989, 7. Morris (1986, 7) sums up: “The evidence is heavily set against the long-term transmission of dead institutions within a tradition of constantly re-created oral poetry. It would perhaps be an exaggeration to say that non-literate societies float in a kind of perpetual present, but it does seem to be the case that ideas that are no longer relevant to the present rapidly disappear from oral tradition.” The only mitigating factor is what Morris calls “epic distance,” a tendency to archaize events and institutions: Morris 1986, 89; Vansina 1985, 31–32; see also Scodel 2002, 2, 19. 5. Vansina 1985, 19–21, 23–24; Morris 1986, 83, 125–27.

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the epics became relatively fixed due to wide dispersion and concomitant audience expectations. Thus, linguistic arrangements in the Iliad likely reflect the present of poet and audience around the time of stabilization, shaped by contemporary conditions, needs, and ideas. In short, the Iliad is the product of an oral tradition that stabilized in approximately its current form circa 700 b.c.e. Due to the nature of oral tradition, the poem for the most part reflects beliefs about language and identity roughly contemporary with the moment of stabilization. Based upon these two premises, I will attempt to interpret the linguistic situation in the Iliad as it would have been understood by poet and audience at about the time of stabilization, around the turn of the eighth century. Even though later Greeks— after the Persian Wars, perhaps—may have directly equated Akhaians with Greeks and Trojans with barbarians as they heard or read the Iliad, assigning such an understanding of identity to an eighth-century b.c.e. performance is anachronistic, unsupported by the linguistic situation depicted in the epics. Pre-Classical Greek literature does not offer unambiguous evidence for Panhellenic identity, and the earlier one looks, the more problematic the concept becomes. Scholars who see Panhellenism as emerging primarily through opposition to a barbarian “Other” tend to downplay the extent of Panhellenism before the Persian Wars. 6 Those who view Panhellenism as aggregated from disparate local and regional identities allow for its earlier appearance, at least in a limited or nascent form. 7 A third view has recently emerged, that oppositional identity may have begun to develop in the Archaic period (or even the late Dark Age) through intercultural contact brought about by colonization or trade. 8 The Iliad potentially offers the earliest available 6. The consensus holds that the dichotomy between Greek and barbarian arose during and after the Persian Wars and that any Panhellenic identity based upon it, therefore, does not precede the advent of the Classical Era. Cartledge, for example, contrasts the Archaic Period, where there is no such oppositional identity, with the Classical Era, when “Greeks . . . construct their identities negatively, by means of a series of polarized oppositions of themselves to what they were not” (Cartledge 1993, 12–13; cf. Cartledge 1995, 75–82, esp. 77–78). E. Hall (1989) agrees; in her discussion of Greek tragedy, she explores the absence of the barbarian in early Greek thought (chap. 1), the “discourse of barbarism” that arose in poetry after the Persian Wars (chaps. 2–3), and finally the solidification of the barbarian as the antithesis of the Hellene (chap. 4); see E. Hall 1989, esp. 4–5, 76–79, 117–21, 177–79. Choosing a contemporary of Aiskhylos, Morgan (1993, 18, 36) argues that Panhellenism in Pindar’s poetry is a novel development. The Greekbarbarian dichotomy reaches maturity in Herodotus, where Hartog finds evidence for an oppositional identity in Herodotus’ depiction of the Skythians’ “otherness,” especially their nomadism. According to Hartog, Herodotus implicitly and negatively contrasts this lack of a settled, agricultural, city life with the rooted (indeed, autochthonous), agricultural, and povliÍ -oriented existence of the Athenians (Hartog 1988, esp. 10–11, 193–99, 206). 7. Snodgrass and Nagy find a nascent Panhellenism in the eighth century b.c.e. built from, but beginning to transcend, local identities. Both recognize, for example, the Olympic Games, the Delphic Oracle, and the Homeric epics themselves as indicators of eighth-century Panhellenism; see Snodgrass 1971, 55– 57, 419–21, 434 –36; Nagy 1999, 7, 115–17, 139– 40; see also Mackie 1996, 7–8, 19. J. Hall, who explicitly views Archaic Greek identity as “aggregative” in character, places the emergence of proto-Panhellenism somewhat later, but still prior to the Persian Wars. According to J. Hall, the sixth century b.c.e. constitutes a critical juncture in the slow evolution of aggregative proto-Panhellenism, marked especially by the founding of the Hellenion at Naukratis and the first well-attested use of collective names (Hellenes or Panhellenes) for the Greeks as a whole (J. Hall 1997, 47–51; see also id., 2002, 130–34 and Konstan 1997). 8. For example, Morris (1996, 1–8) has argued that Greeks constructed a “negotiated periphery” with the Near East during the late Dark Age, which engendered rejection of outside influences among some Greeks, while others actively sought out eastern goods. J. Hall (2002, chap. 4) discusses early Greek knowledge of and interaction with non-Greeks, but does not yet see the reductive stereotyping characteristic of


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literary evidence for Panhellenism and, judging from its subject—a war between a united Akhaian army besieging a non-Akhaian city—the poem seems poised to reveal what early Greeks thought of their collective identity and the differences between themselves and non-Greeks. The picture that emerges from the epic is ambiguous enough, however, to spark considerable disagreement. 9 Although no one argues for a mature Panhellenism in the Iliad (or in the late Dark Age or early Archaic period more broadly), a wide gulf still separates scholars who demand evidence for a well-developed sense of Greek versus Other before admitting the saliency of Panhellenism, and those who already see a shared Hellenic identity superseding intra-Hellenic social and cultural diversity in the epics. In the Classical Era, language was central to Panhellenism. Herodotus considers speaking a single tongue to be one of the three central elements of Hellenic identity, along with shared customs and a common religion. Implicit in Herodotus’ observation is the belief that those who do not speak Greek differ fundamentally from those who do; if “we” are united by language, then “we” must be divided from “them,” the others who do not speak our language (Hdt. 8.144). 10 Just as the entire concept of Panhellenism is problematic in earlier Greek history, however, the role of language in the formation of a shared Hellenic identity in the late Dark Age and Archaic period is controversial. Opinion ranges from the contention that dialect

later oppositional modes of thought (see esp. 121–24 and cf. chap. 6). Kurke (1992, 91–120), while agreeing that Greeks did not define their identity in opposition to a barbarian other before the Persian Wars, argues that during the sixth century b.c.e., interaction between Greeks (especially Ionians) and non-Greeks (especially Lydians) did foster the development of a widely shared aristocratic ethos of virtuous luxury encapsulated in the term aJbrosuvnh . This ethos was then rejected after the Persian Wars, replaced by the rise of the civic ideology of √sonomÇa and the feminization of Eastern customs that accompanied the “invention” of the barbarian. 9. Based largely on the lack of the term “barbarian” or an equivalent, Cartledge (1993, 12) argues against any sense of Panhellenism in Homer; cf. Cartledge 1995, 77–78. Konstan (2001) extends this line of thought, contending that the contrast between civilized and uncivilized worlds underlying Books 9–12 of the Odyssey is never conceived of in terms of Greek versus non-Greek. Konstan (pp. 31–32), however, also admits that while “It seems impossible, on the basis of the epics themselves, to discriminate Greeks from non-Greeks” on the basis of language, religion, customs, geography, or even genealogy, it is nevertheless “Achaeans and only Achaeans who mobilize to carry on the siege of Troy, whereas Priam draws his allies from among [only] non-Achaean populations.” On the other hand, Finley (1979, 18) both respects the heterogeneity of Homer’s Akhaians and sees in the epics the beginnings of Greekness. He sees Homer’s use of (multiple) common names for the Akhaians as a metaphor for early Panhellenism: “The presence of a common name (or names) is a symbol that Greek history proper had been launched. But there was more than one name, and that serves as a symbol, too, of the social and cultural diversity which characterized Hellas both in its infancy and throughout its history, little though it is to be seen in the two Homeric poems”; see also Haubold 2000, 43–45. Despite being a supporter of an early emergence of proto-Panhellenism, the “softness” of Finley’s belief in Homeric Panhellenism is evident when he later asserts that there are no local, regional, or national dividing lines of genuine consequence in Homer, and that while individuals and classes vary in capacity, peoples do not (Finley 1979, 135); compare Mackie (1996, chap. 1, esp. p. 20), where she argues for “complex unity” of the Greek army before Troy. 10. For a recent discussion of Herodotus’ definition of Greek identity, see R. Thomas 2001, 213–33. Whereas the term “barbarian” had originally served as a strictly descriptive, nonnormative, linguistic term (as in the case of Homeric barbarovfwnoÍ), during and after the Persian Wars it mutated into a broader concept, denoting non-Greeks categorically and pejoratively. Cartledge (1993, 13) observes that “Not once is ‘barbarian’ used as either a substantive or adjective in all . . . of Homer.” Elsewhere, Cartledge adds that the single appearance of barbarovfwnoÍ lacks any negative overtones (Cartledge 1995, 78). See E. Hall (1989, 19–21), for a brief discussion of the general lack of concern with linguistic difference in Archaic Greek poetry.

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variation caused strong intra-Hellenic divisions, to the belief that communication among Greek-speakers was unimpeded by dialect and that the Greek language fostered cultural unity from an early date. 11 In the Iliad, the depiction of language—when interpreters are necessary; who speak directly with one another unimpeded; what overall importance attaches language to identity—reveals a situation that consistently differentiates between Akhaians and others without establishing a strict opposition. 12 Just as the existence of a multiplicity of common names for Homer’s “Greeks”—Akhaians, Danaans, Argives—sheds light on the tension between unity and diversity among the Akhaians, the linguistic landscape of the Iliad provides a window into the complex nature of identity in the epics, and among the Greeks of the late eighth century b.c.e. Three passages in the Iliad directly address the speaking of different languages ( Il. 2.802–6, 2.867, 4.433–38; Od. 19.172–77, each discussed below). In all three, Homer recognizes strangeness or diversity of speech among the ejpÇkouroi of the Trojans. The first of these passages occurs as the Tro jans prepare to counter an Akhaian attack in Book 2. Iris, disguised as the watchman Polites, warns Hektor of the coming onslaught and commands ( Il. 2.802–6): £Ektor soµ de; mavlist∆ ejpitevllomai, w•de de; rJevxai: polloµ ga;r kata; aßstu mevga Priavmou ejpÇkouroi, aßllh d∆ aßllwn glΩssa polusperevwn a˚nqr∫pwn: to∂sin e§kastoÍ a˚nh;r shmainevtw o∏sÇ per aßrcei, tΩn d∆ ejxhgeÇsqw kosmhsavmenoÍ polihvtaÍ. Hektor, you especially I implore, act in this manner: There are many ejpÇkouroi in the great citadel of P riam, But there are different tongues among the wide-strewn human race; So let each man give word to those whom he rules, Let each, arranging the men of his povliÍ for battle, be their leader. 13

11. Finley (1979, 18–19), while recognizing substantial dialectic differences, does not consider them a significant barrier to communication. Indeed, he believes that the Greek language was a “remarkably stable” unifying element among all its speakers from the Bronze Age onward. Taking a different view, J. Hall argues (1997, esp. 168–73) that differences in dialects among Greeks of the Archaic period constituted a serious barrier to communication, which enhanced the saliency of identities reflecting intra-Hellenic sociolinguistic divisions, such as between Dorians and Ionians. Hall makes clear, however, that the speaking of a particular dialect was an indicator rather than a source of intra-Hellenic ethnic identity; the root of such identity, according to Hall, was belief in shared descent from a legendary ancestor. Later, Hall explores the earliest uses of the term bavrbaroÍ (and variants) and equivocates somewhat, admitting that in Archaic and Classical literature, “there are few if any hints of communicational difficulties” between Greek dialect groups or between Greeks and non-Greeks (J. Hall 2002, 113; cf. 111–17). Hall does, however, produce two examples of difficulty in intra-Greek communication: Thuc. 3.94.5 and Pl. Prt. 341c. He concludes (2002, 116–17) that the frequency of interaction between speakers of different dialects or languages determines the ease of intercommunication, and that in some places, such as Ephesos, a Greek-speaker might more easily understand a local “barbarian” than a speaker of a remote Greek dialect. 12. Another indication of a complex unity among the Akhaians is that Homer consistently uses the singular ga∂a (or aπa or patrµÍ ga∂a) to describe the place from which the Akhaian force was mustered and to which its members want to return. Similarly, the term laovÍ (people) is used in the singular when referring to the Akhaians as a whole; see Haubold 2000, 43–45. 13. Greek texts of Homer and Hesiod from the online edition of Thesaurus Linguae Graecae, http:// www.tlg.uci.edu/ (accessed July 8, 2005); texts of Homeric Hymns from Evelyn-White 1936; all translations by the author.


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The phrase aßllh d∆ aßllwn glΩssa polusperevwn a˚nqr∫pwn (“but there are different tongues among the wide-strewn human race”) makes it clear that the ejpÇkouroi speak various mutually unintelligible languages; otherwise, there would be no need to dispatch each leader to command his own troops. What is more, in this passage Hektor must dispatch each commander to array the residents of his own povliÍ ( polihÅtai ). It is assumed that all members of a single povliÍ community (and consequently the military contingent based upon it) speak the same language, but that language barriers may arise between povleiÍ and their associated military bands. 14 In this case, language does not define particular ethnic or socio-linguistic groups. 15 Instead, linguistic variation among the ejpÇkouroi follows the contours of other aspects of identity more frequently invoked by Homer (and found among both Trojan and Akhaian forces): povliÍ and military contingent. 16 The second example of linguistic variation among the ejpÇkouroi of the Trojans is found in the Trojan Catalogue of Book 2. In this passage, Homer labels the Karians barbarovfwnoÍ (“barbarous-voiced” or “strange-speaking”) without further comment, before returning to the more usual practice in the Catalogues of describing the contingent’s place of origin (Hom. Il. 2.867–69): NavsthÍ au® KarΩn hJghvsato barbarof∫nwn, oi¶ MÇlhton eßcon FqirΩn t∆ oßroÍ a˚kritovfullon Maiavndrou te rJoa;Í MukavlhÍ t∆ a√peina; kavrhna. But Nastes led the barbarovfwnoi Karians who held Miletos and the densely wooded mountain of Phthirai, and the streams of Maiandros, and the towering summits of Mukale.

This passage marks the only use of a bavrbaroÍ cognate or compound in the Iliad. 17 It is likely that the adjective barbarovfwnoÍ here does not denote merely non-Greek (or, more properly, non-Akhaian) speech, but instead carries the force of strange speech more generally, since every other passage in the Iliad that concerns the use of mutually incomprehensible languages refers not to a divide between Akhaians and non-Akhaian divisions, but instead to differences between ejpÇkouroi and Trojans (or among ejpÇkouroi ). In other words, the poet is not only, or even primarily, drawing a distinction between the Karians and the Akhaians (or between the Karians and his Greek-speaking audience), but instead is setting the Karians apart as

14. In this passage, residents of each povliÍ form military units that order the Trojan army, despite the fact that povleiÍ are less frequently mentioned in the Trojan Catalogue than in the Catalogue of Ships. Overall, as the Iliad progresses, povliÍ -based military units seem to replace the fuÅlon - and frhvtrh -based units found in the introduction to the Catalogue of Ships, a substitution worth further inquiry. 15. As it does in the case of Krete in Hom. Od . 19.172–77. 16. On the importance of the war leader and his military following in Homer, see Qviller 1981, esp. 115– 17, 130–32; Donlan 1985, esp. 297, 300–304; Donlan 1989, 5–29, esp. 12–13; Runciman 1982, 351–77, esp. 354–55; C. Thomas 1999, 827–32; see also Haubold 2000, chap. 1, esp. pp. 21–24, 32–35. Summarizing his position, Haubold (2000, 160) observes: “Epic concentrates on the interaction between groups and leaders as encapsulated in the formula ‘shepherd of the people.’” Each of these authors downplays the role of the povliÍ in Homer. Others consider the povliÍ of central importance to the social and political structure seen in the epics; see Luce 1978, 1–15; van Wees 1992, 2–3, 25–36, 54; Scully 1981, 1–34; cf. Scully 1990. 17. Indeed, this is the only use of a bavrbaroÍ -cognate in Greek literature prior to the latter half of the sixth century b.c.e. (Anac. frag. 423 Page; see J. Hall 2002, 111–12).


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strange and foreign in general, far removed not just from the Akhaians but also from the Trojans themselves and perhaps even from the other ejpÇkouroi . 18 The idea of remoteness is reinforced by the fact that the Karians occur next-to-last in the Trojan Catalogue, which appears to be arranged in geographical order. 19 Here, as elsewhere, linguistic diversity among the Trojan ejpÇkouroi is at issue, rather than any hard dividing line of language between Akhaian and non-Akhaian. Notably, language is only mentioned once in the Catalogues of Iliad 2, in which Homer delineates and describes the opposing forces. Even here it is of relatively minor importance, marked by a single adjective, before the poet returns to more commonly invoked and salient criteria of identity (familiar from Il. 2.805–6 and 4.437–38): membership in a military contingent and place of origin. The near-total absence of language from the Catalogues keeps in perspective the role of language in the formation of identity. The heterogeneous speech of the Trojan ejpÇkouroi emerges most strongly in Book 4 of the Iliad . Homer describes the clamor generated by the Trojan charge with a simile comparing their army to a herd of bleating ewes, followed by an explanation of the cacophony generated by the Trojans’ mingled battle cry ( Il. 4.433–38): TrΩeÍ d∆, w§Í t∆ oßieÍ polupavmonoÍ a˚ndro;Í ejn au˚l¬Å murÇai eJsthvkasin a˚melgovmenai gavla leuko;n a˚zhce;Í memaku∂ai a˚kouvousai oßpa a˚rnΩn, w¶Í Tr∫wn a˚lalhto;Í a˚na; strato;n eu˚ru;n ojr∫rei: ou˚ ga;r pavntwn h®en oÒmo;Í qrovoÍ ou˚d∆ ≥a ghÅruÍ, a˚lla; glΩssa mevmikto, poluvklhtoi d∆ eßsan aßndreÍ. But the Trojans, just as myriads of ewes stand in the sheep-pen of a rich man, waiting to be relieved of their white milk, bleat incessantly as they hear the voice of their lambs, the cry of the Trojans rose above the broad array; for there was no speech shared by them all, nor one voice, instead their tongue was mingled, as they were men summoned from many lands.

Three words, qrovoÍ, ghÅruÍ, and glΩssa , used for language in two separate clauses, invoke the discord of the scene, emphasizing the fact that the languages spoken among the ejpÇkouroi are diverse, numerous, and—when considered in the context of Iliad 2.802–6, where interpreters prove necessary— mutually unintelligible. 20 Furthermore, just as language is subordinate to

18. But see Mackie (1996, 125, 140) for an argument that the Trojans are indeed “distant strangers,” foreign to the Akhaians. 19. In their appendix concerning the Trojan Catalogue, Simpson and Lazenby (1970, 176; cf. appendix, n. 2) suggest that: “The contingents seem to be grouped together in five geographical areas—the Troad, the European allies from beyond the Hellespont, the Far Eastern allies (Paphlagonians and Alizonians), the Near Eastern allies (Mysians and Phrygians), and the allies from south of the Troad—and in the last four cases, the list appears to begin with the contingent from nearest Troy, and to end with the one from farthest away.” Under this arrangement, the Karians are one of the most remote contingents listed; compare Scully 1990, 93–94 and chap. 4, n. 48; see also Willcock 1970, 85; Kirk 1985, 250; Mackie 1996, 90–91. 20. Mackie 1996, 16. The sheep simile is not limited to the Trojans or intrinsically derogatory; in Il. 2, the Akhaians are also compared to groups of animals. The poet develops no dichotomy between Akhaians and non-Akhaians along the lines of speaking versus bleating, human versus animal. Instead, emphasis


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povliÍ and military divisions in Iliad 2.802–6, linguistic variation here depends upon place of origin: glΩssa mevmikto (“their tongue was mingled”) because they were poluvklhtoi (“summoned from many lands”). Again, language follows the contours of other aspects of identity, particularly geographic origin. The contrast between the mutually incomprehensible languages spoken by the Trojan allies and the linguistic unity found among the Akhaians constitutes one aspect of a pattern explored by Hilary Mackie (1996). Mackie is one of the few authors to examine linguistic diversity in Homer in detail, using its presence among the Trojan Allies and absence among the Akhaians as a marker of a broader contrast between Akhaian order and Trojan disorder: “When the Trojans march out at the beginning of Book 3, they are still dominated by undifferentiated clamor ( klaggê). With their mixed languages, the Trojans cannot function as an articulate group.” Conversely, “Because Greek is their common language, the units of the Achaean army form an organic whole, a kosmos ‘ordering’ of tribes and phratries.” 21 In this context, the Akhaian unity of language, versus the Trojan-allied disunity, is a contrast between Trojan clamor and chaos on the one hand and Akhaian cohesion and order on the other. Furthermore, according to Mackie’s analysis, each side in the encounter between Akhaian and Trojan employs a distinct manner of speaking. The speeches made by Akhaian and Trojan heroes, for example, differ with respect to diction, theme, purpose, and length. Akhaian speeches tend towards the aggressive; they are public and political, often casting blame. Trojan speeches, conversely, are introspective, private, poetic, and prefer praise over censure. 22 This contrast between Trojan and Akhaian speech, Mackie continues, exposes friction within Archaic Greek society, between the household and political community, for example. Mackie believes that these tensions are resolved by the Akhaians, who successfully forge a cohesive community, but not by the Trojans, who fail to build such a community with and among their allies. 23 Taken in this light, the linguistic unity of the Akhaians is one sign of their success at community building; the babble and clamor of the Trojans a mark of their failure. Mackie is wary of extending her analysis beyond the context of the poem: “What we are dealing with is an imagined, artistic version of ethnic and cultural difference.” 24 For Mackie, differences between Trojans and Akhaians in the Iliad do not reflect any real differences between Greek and non-Greek in the eighth century, but instead are used, at most, to explore features internal to the society that produced the poems, such as tensions between household and political community. Mackie may, however, be overly cautious in this regard. Considering the instability in oral traditions of abstractions such

is on uniformity versus diversity, Akhaian order versus non-Akhaian chaos. For counter-examples of dehumanization through animal metaphors in a modern colonial setting, see Miller 1985 (I would like to thank Prof. Karen Rabbitt, William Paterson University, for this reference). 21. Mackie 1996, 21, 19; cf. 11–12, 15–16, 92; see also Konstan 2001, 31. 22. Mackie 1996, chap. 1, esp. 1, 5, 12. 23. Ibid., 97; see also chap. 4, esp. 127–35 and 158–59. 24. Ibid., 44.

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as group identity, the unity of the Akhaians in the Iliad would have been more effective as a literary device if it resonated with a genuine sense of Panhellenism emerging among poet and audience in the eighth century b.c.e. 25 Further evidence that the unity of the Akhaians in the Iliad resonated with the sentiments of eighth-century Greeks is presented by Nagy, who also explores the relationship between the artistry of the poem and the culture that produced it. In his analysis of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, Nagy believes that the fusion of the Delian and Pythian traditions in this hymn reflects the unification of not just artistic, but also socio-religious traditions— bringing together not only divergent stories, but also diverse audiences. 26 More generally, just as Nagy argues that proliferation of the Homeric epics by the late eighth century b.c.e. indicates an approximate date for the stabilization of the oral tradition, he also cites the broad acceptance of the epics among the Greeks as evidence—along with the rise of institutions such as the Olympic Games and Delphic Oracle—for an emerging “intercultural synthesis” that contributed to a nascent sense of Panhellenism. 27 The image of the Akhaians—who were certainly viewed as Greek, even if the Trojans had not yet become stand-ins for the generic, undifferentiated barbarian— presented in the Iliad was apparently an acceptable part of this intercultural synthesis. Whether the Iliad drew upon a preexisting sense of nascent Panhellenism, or actively contributed to its construction (or some combination of both), Akhaian unity in the Iliad, manifested in such features as a shared common language, reflected Panhellenic sentiments growing among eighthcentury Greeks. Admittedly, only three passages from the Iliad deal with Akhaian linguistic unity or the linguistic diversity of the Trojan ejpÇkouroi , making it difficult to determine the significance of language as a component of early Panhellenism. The nature and importance of these passages can be better assessed by interpreting them in the context of the surviving body of early Greek epic poetry. 28 The speaking of divergent languages is acknowledged once in the Odyssey, once in Hesiod’s Theogony, and twice in the Homeric Hymns. 25. An idea occasionally raised but not pursued at length in Mackie 1996 (see, for example, pp. 19, 161). 26. Nagy 1999, 6. 27. Ibid., 7; cf. Snodgrass 1971, 419–21; 1980, 55; see also Scodel 2002, 45–46. 28. Hesiod’s date is somewhat more secure than Homer’s; he most likely composed the Theogony and the Works and Days between 700 and 660 b.c.e.; see Janko 1982, 94–98; Scodel 2002, 47. More importantly, although Hesiod worked with material from a wider oral tradition, unlike Homer he was certainly an historical figure, someone who lived and composed in a specific place and time, and the securely identifiable author of the works attributed to him. I chose to examine the Homeric Hymns for generic rather than chronological reasons, to place the Iliad in the context of the wider expectations and assumptions of epic poetry (ancient audiences considered Homer, Hesiod, and the Hymns to be part of the same genre); cf. Scodel 2002, 47. Furthermore, I selected specific Hymns because they contained relevant passages. Nevertheless, the Hymns examined here are all relatively early, most likely dating to the seventh century b.c.e. Janko dates the Hymn to Delian Apollo later than the Iliad and Odyssey, but still early, perhaps contemporary with Hesiod as it (unlike later Hymns ) contains few Hesiodic passages (Janko 1982, chap. 5, esp. 106, 114–15). The Hymn to Demeter, mentioned briefly below for comparison, likely dates to within two generations after the Hymn to Delian Apollo, to the latter half of the seventh or (at the latest) to the early sixth century (Janko 1982, 102, 183). The Hymn to Aphrodite is more difficult to date. Although its diction appears very archaic, Janko prefers a date of composition later than the Hymn to Delian Apollo but earlier than the Hymn to Demeter, and probably during Hesiod’s lifetime, i.e., sometime before 660 b.c.e. ; Janko sees influence from the Hymn to Aphrodite on the Works and Days (Janko 1982, chap. 8, esp. 151, 168–69, 179–80).


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The passage from Hesiod deals not with diversity of human language, but instead focuses on differences between divine, human, and animal utterances. In the Hymn to Delian Apollo, both divine-human dichotomy and intra-human variation play a part. The passages from the Odyssey and the Hymn to Aphrodite, however, directly address linguistic variation among humans. Thus, while epic poetry as a genre sometimes uses language to explore one of its common themes, the division between the human and the divine, it just as often explores linguistic diversity among humans. The only recognition of linguistic diversity within Akhaian lands found in early literature occurs in the Odyssey. 29 Taking on the persona of Aithon, a fallen aristocrat from Krete, Odysseus observes of the people of the island (Od. 19.172–77): Krhvth tiÍ ga∂∆ eßsti, mevså ejnµ o≥nopi povntå, kalh; kaµ pÇeira, perÇrrutoÍ: ejn d∆ aßnqrwpoi polloÇ, a˚peirevsioi, kaµ ejnnhvkonta povlheÍ. aßllh d∆ aßllwn glΩssa memigmevnh: ejn me;n ÂcaioÇ, ejn d∆ ∆EteovkrhteÍ megalhvtoreÍ, ejn de; KuvdwneÍ, DwrieveÍ te tricav∑keÍ d∂oÇ te PelasgoÇ . Krete is a land, in the midst of the wine-dark sea, Lovely and rich, surrounded by water, and in it are many people, Countless people, and ninety povleiÍ. And different tongues are mingled there; in it are Akhaioi, In it are great-hearted Eteokretes, in it are Kudones, And Dorieës with waving plumes, and divine Pelasgoi.

The languages spoken on the island are simply described as memigmevn h (“mingled” or “mixed”) using the same verb ( mÇgnumi ) employed in Iliad 4.438, where it invokes the cacophony of the Trojan host. Likewise, the phrase aßllh d∆ aßllwn glΩssa is repeated from Iliad 2.804, where it is used to communicate the diversity of the Trojan ejpÇkouroi . Unlike in the other passages concerning linguistic diversity in Homer, however, here it remains unclear how language corresponds to place of origin (whether each of the ninety povleiÍ on the island is mixed, or whether each povliÍ is populated by members of only one group). 30 Nor are particular linguistic groups located within a single region of Krete in the way that the barbarovfwnoi Karians are linked to a single homeland, Karia. Instead, after noting the mixing of lan29. Finley (1979, 17) cites this passage ( Od . 19.172–77) while discussing the arrival of Greek-speakers in Greece and contends that the Odyssey contains a reminiscence of diversity, a time when the protoGreeks were but one linguistic element among many. 30. See Heubeck, Fernández-Galiano, and Russo 1992, 83–84, for a range of speculation about settlement patterns on Krete. They claim that this passage reflects the only settlement of “mixed, international composition” known in early Greece, “whether we assume the description to be valid for the Bronze Age, for Homer’s time, or for some period in between.” They then proceed with a discussion of interpretations of the origin of each group, and note that “Most striking is the inclusion of Dorians among Cretan populations, since Homer mentions them nowhere else” (unless the phrase tricqa; de; åßkhqen katafuladovn at Il . 2.668 is an oblique reference to the typical three- fuÅlon division of the Dorians; cf. Strabo 10.4.6–7). Compare Finley (1979, 17), who takes this passage as evidence for the cultural diversity of Greece produced by a long process of infiltration of the southern Balkans by Greek speakers in the early Bronze Age. Of the proto-Greek speakers arriving at that time he observes: “The Angles and Saxons in Britain offer a convenient analogy: they were not Englishmen, but they were to become Englishmen one day.”


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guages on Krete, the poet provides a list of “ethnic” names—a marker of identity less commonly employed in the Iliad than place of origin or membership in a military contingent. 31 Groups traditionally considered Greek (Akhaians and Dorians) are not, however, distinguished from those who were not (Eteocretans, Kudones, Pelasgians); again, no rigid dichotomy emerges between Akhaians and non-Akhaians. The reliance on language and “ethnicity” in this passage mark it out as unusual. Considering the context of the passage—a tale told to Penelope to hide Odysseus’ real identity from her—perhaps Odysseus is focusing on the exotic as he does in his other travel stories. In this case, ethno-linguistic diversity would make Krete strange and distant, perhaps even “foreign,” despite the fact that the island is ruled by an Akhaian king and sent a contingent to the Trojan War. Such a use of linguistic diversity to generate the impression of alterity recalls the description of the remote and barbarovfwnoÍ Karians in the Trojan Catalogue. 32 Although the linkage between ethnicity and language in Odyssey 19.175–77 distinguishes it from the three analogous passages in the Iliad, the vocabulary and wording are very similar to Iliad 2.804 and 4.438, while the intention of the passage, evoking as it does strangeness and distance, mirrors that of the Karian entry in the Trojan Catalogue, 2.867–69. Unlike Homer, Hesiod never recognizes differences between human languages. Instead, his only mention of language involves divine speech, contrasted with the inarticulate sounds made by animals. Describing Typhoeus, the last incarnation of chaos subdued by Zeus, Hesiod remarks ( Theog. 824–35): . . . ejk dev o¥ wßmwn

h®n eJkato;n kefalaµ oßfioÍ deino∂o dravkontoÍ, gl∫ss¬si dnofer¬Åsi lelicmovteÍ: ejn dev o¥ oßsse qespesÇ¬Í kefal¬Åsin uÒp∆ ojfruvsi puÅr a˚mavrussen: [pasevwn d∆ ejk kefalevwn puÅr kaÇeto derkomevnoio: ] fwnaµ d∆ ejn pavs¬sin eßsan dein¬ÅÍ kefal¬Åsi, pantoÇhn oßp∆ √e∂sai a˚qevsfaton: aßllote me;n ga;r fqevggonq∆ w§Í te qeo∂si sunievmen, aßllote d∆ au®te tauvrou ejribruvcew mevnoÍ a˚scevtou oßssan a˚gauvrou, aßllote d∆ au®te levontoÍ a˚naideva qumo;n eßcontoÍ, aßllote d∆ au® skulavkessin ejoikovta, qauvmat∆ a˚kouÅsai, aßllote d∆ au® rJoÇzesc∆, uÒpo; d∆ hßceen oußrea makrav. . . . and upon his shoulders there were a hundred snake-like heads of a terrible dragon with dark tongues flicking, and his eyes 31. Odysseus/Aithon makes this assessment of the linguistic diversity of Krete while speaking as an Akhaian (he claims to be Aithon, the brother of Idomeneus); in another “Kretan lie,” Odysseus/Aithon specifically identifies himself as Akhaian ( Od . 14.229–31, 240–42). Odyssey 19.175–77 is perhaps the sole example in Homer where J. Hall’s idea of ethnicity—communal identity conferred at birth by putative descent—is combined with language to produce the genealogically-determined, but linguistically-expressed, groups that J. Hall claims are the most salient category of identity in Archaic Greece. 32. Conversely, the unique nature of this passage could reflect the “alternative Odyssey” described by Reece, which seems to have had a special familiarity with Krete (Reece, 1994, 157–73, esp. 165–66).


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in his awful heads under the brows flashed fire; [and fire glowed from all his heads as he glared] and there was speech in all his awful heads, making every sort of ungodly noise; and sometimes he uttered a sound as if for the gods’ understanding; and at another time like a loud-bellowing bull, irrepressible of strength and proud of voice; and at another time like a lion, with merciless heart, and at another time mimicking a pack of whelps, shocking to hear, and at another time he hissed, and the great mountains rang out below.

The many and strange sounds emanating from Typhoeus’ hundred heads add a unique aspect to his monstrosity, but although the heads are described as pantoÇhn oßp∆ √e∂sai a˚qevsfaton (“making every sort of ungodly noise”), Typhoeus produces no kind of human speech. The list of pantoÇhn oßp∆ . . . a˚qevsfaton begins, somewhat incongruously—since a˚qevsfatoÍ means literally “not to be spoken even by a god”—with w§Í te qeo∂si sunievmen (“[a sound] as if for the gods’ understanding”). Hesiod then contrasts this divine “language” with other pantoÇhn oßp∆ . . . a˚qevsfaton: the sound of a bull, a lion, a pack of dogs, and rJoÇzesc ’ (“hissing,” animal omitted by Hesiod, but he has already described them as kefalaµ oßfioÍ deino∂o dravkontoÍ [“snake-like heads of a terrible dragon”]). The gods are clearly thought of as having their own speech, as different from human speech as the roaring of a lion or the hissing of a snake, but here the contrast is left implicit. Hesiod attributes only nonhuman types of “speech” to Typhoeus, perhaps to reemphasize the horror and monstrosity of the creature, as Homer uses the speaking of diverse languages on Krete to emphasize the exotic nature of that island or the alien speech of the Karians to indicate their outlandishness. The difference between human and divine speech is echoed elsewhere in the epic tradition when two names are given for a creature, one current among the gods, the other among men, as is the case in the story of Briareos/ Aigaion at Iliad 1.403–4: o¶n Briavrewn kalevousi qeoÇ, aßndreÍ dev te pavnteÍ A√gaÇwn∆, o¶ ga;r au®te bÇhn ou• patro;Í ajmeÇnwn That creature the gods call Briareos, but all men Call the son of Aigaion, for in strength he is much greater than his father.

Providing two names—one divine, the other human—both exemplifies the concern of Greek epic with the division between the human and the divine and offers the poet an opportunity to display his privileged knowledge of the names used by the gods. 33 Another passage, from the Homeric Hymn to Delian Apollo, implies the transcendence of divine speech over human. Perhaps more importantly, it also provides the only instance in early epic poetry where human linguistic diversity is recognized in a generic way, outside the context of the Trojan ejpÇkouroi and the Trojan War ( Hymn. Hom. Ap. 156–64): 33. Fowler 1988, 95–99. For other examples of different names current among the gods as opposed to humans, see Hom. Il . 20.74 and Od . 10.305.


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pro;Í de; tovde mevga qauÅma, o§ou klevoÍ oußpot∆ o˚le∂tai, kouÅrai DhliavdeÍ, eJkathbelevtao qeravpnai: aª t∆ ejpeµ a˙r prΩton me;n Âpovllwn’ uÒmnhvswsin, au®tiÍ d∆ au® Lht∫ te kaµ ¢Artemin √ocevairan, mnhsavmenai a˚ndrΩn te palaiΩn hjde; gunaikΩn u§mnon a˚eÇdousin, qevlgousi de; fuÅl∆ a˚nqr∫pwn. pavntwn d∆ a˚nqr∫pwn fwna;Í kaµ bambaliastu;n 34 mime∂sq∆ ≥sasin: faÇh dev ken au˚to;Í e§kastoÍ fqevggesq∆: ou§tw sfin kalh; sunavrhren a˚oidhv. And this is a great wonder, its fame will never fade, The Delian maidens, attendants of the Far-Darter: When they hymn first to Apollo, Then to Leto and to Artemis the arrow-pourer, Remembering the men and women of old They sing a hymn, they enchant the tribes of people. They know how to mimic the speech and stammer of all people And each one would swear that he uttered the sounds himself, Thus their lovely song was joined.

Here, each listener, no matter which of the fuÅl∆ a˚nqr∫pwn (“tribes of people”) he comes from, hears the Delian maidens singing in his own language. The point is driven home by the claim that the maidens pavntwn d∆ a˚nqr∫pwn fwna;Í kaµ bambaliastu;n / mime∂sq’ ≥sasin. Whether the utterance of words comprehensible to all listeners is the product of the singers’ skill—implied by the phrases mime∂sq’ ≥sasin and ou§tw sfin kalh; sunavrhren a˚oidhv—or the result of some divine miracle—evoked by such words as qauÅma and qevlgousi —for the scene to be considered remarkable requires the imagined audience to come to the performance of the maidens speaking a multitude of languages. That the songs can be understood not only by Delian Greeks alone, but by all listeners, simultaneously, in all of their varied languages, ensures that the klevoÍ of the scene oußpot∆ ojle∂tai. If the simultaneous understanding of the fuÅ l∆ a˚ nqr∫pwn is the result of a miracle, it implies that divine or divinely inspired speech transcends individual human languages, again pointing to a contrast between human speech and the speech of the gods. Perhaps, then, in this passage the distinction between divine and human language and the differences between human languages are intertwined; in any case, the qauÅma of the scene presupposes and requires human linguistic diversity. Another passage from the Homeric Hymns more closely parallels the passages from the Iliad, dealing as it does with linguistic variation between Trojans and Phrygians. Set a generation before the Trojan War, the Hymn to Aphrodite recounts how Ankhises correctly identifies a visitor who has

34. A variant reading of line 162 substitutes krembaliastu;n, “rattling,” for bambaliastu;n, “stammering.” In this context, the word seems to me to be closely joined by grammar and sense with fwna;Í , making bambaliastu;n the more likely reading: “They know how to mimic the speech and stammer of all people” rather than “They know how to mimic the speech and rattling [for a dance?] of all people”; cf. EvelynWhite 1936, 336–37.


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suddenly appeared at his door as Aphrodite. In protest, the disguised goddess constructs a mortal identity, claiming to be the daughter of king Otreus of Phrygia. After naming her father and homeland at the beginning of her speech, Aphrodite next defends her mortal origins by explaining how it is that she can speak Ankhises’ language ( Hymn. Hom. Ven. 111–16): ∆Otreu;Í d∆ ejstµ path;r ojnomaklutovÍ, e≥ pou a˚kouv eiÍ, o¶Í pavshÍ FrugÇhÍ eu˚teichvtoio a˚navssei. glΩssan d∆ uÒmetevrhn te kaµ hJmetevrhn savfa oπda. Tråa;Í ga;r megavrå me trofo;Í trevfen: h¶ de; diapro; smikrh;n pa∂d∆ a˚tÇtalle, fÇlhÍ para; mhtro;Í eJlouÅsa. w¶Í dhv toi glΩssavn ge kaµ uÒmetevrhn eu® oπda. And Otreus is my renowned father, perhaps you have heard of him somewhere, He who rules all of well-fortified Phrygia. And I know your tongue every bit as well as I know my own. For a Trojan nurse brought me up in our great hall: and she Reared me throughout the time I was a small child, when I was handed over to her from my own dear mother. This, indeed, is why I know your tongue so very well.

Just as interpreters were employed in the Iliad to facilitate communication between Trojans and ejpÇkouroi , here Aphrodite concocts an identity as a Phrygian princess who can only speak with Ankhises because she was brought up by a Trojan nurse, who taught her Ankhises’ language. Aphrodite seems defensive, taking some pain to account for how she can communicate with Ankhises, as if a poor explanation might cast doubt on her mortal identity. Not only is a four-line explanatory tale provided, but it is quite vigorous, bracketed by numerous emphatic adverbs, particles, and conjunctions in lines 113 and 116 (savfa… dhv toi . . . ge kaÇ ); redundancy between lines 113 and 116 further strengthens the emphasis. 35 Perhaps meeting a stranger who can speak his language perfectly strikes Ankhises as odd, something that might be explained were his interlocutor divine, which he already suspects from her beauty and bearing. Combating his suspicion, Aphrodite takes some care to concoct a plausible and forceful explanation. Linguistic barriers do not always arise when a god takes on the persona of a foreign mortal in the Homeric Hymns. When Demeter disguises herself as an old woman from Krete and seeks refuge in Eleusis, she has no difficulty talking with the daughters of King Keleos ( Hymn. Hom. Cer. 118–44); Dionysus, when seized by pirates, likewise communicates with the ship’s helmsman without difficulty ( Hymn. Hom. Bacch. 53–57). 36 Moreover, the case of Aphrodite involves communication between a Phrygian—Phrygians being future ejpÇkouroi of the Trojans—and Ankhises, a Trojan nobleman, echoing the theme from the Iliad that the ejpÇkouroi speak a variety of languages dis35. The adverb savfa (“clearly,” “plainly,” “assuredly”), in line 113; the particles dhv v (providing greater exactness; “in fact,” “of course,” “certainly”), toi (“surely,” “really,” “consequently”), and ge (limits, strengthens, or amplifies a general assertion: “at least,” “that is”) combined with an emphatic kaÇ in line 116. 36. Note also, of course, the many times in the Iliad and the Odyssey when gods, disguised as humans or not, speak directly to people.


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tinct from each other and differing from Trojan speech. As is typical in the Iliad, in the Hymn to Aphrodite glΩssa is associated with place of origin, in this case Phrygia. Furthermore, although no mention of Phrygian linguistic difference appears in the Iliad itself, the remoteness of the Phrygian homeland is noted by the phrase thÅl’ ejx, “from afar,” in the Trojan Catalogue (2.862–63). Elsewhere in the Iliad (3.181–90), the Otreus mentioned in the Hymn to Aphrodite is named by Priam as a contemporary of his youth. In the same passage, which occurs as Priam praises the number of men under Agamemnon’s command, Priam favorably compares the Akhaian host to the largest army he has previously seen, the Phrygians under Otreus and Mygdon who arrayed themselves against the Amazons. The remoteness of the Phrygians, combined with the fact that they were a powerful people in the youth of Priam (and, therefore, of Ankhises, as the two are of the same generation), makes the poet’s choice of the Phrygians as the people of origin for Aphrodite plausible and ties it to the Trojan cycle. In this context, the poet’s need to provide a Phrygian princess with a Trojan education in order to explain how she can converse with Ankhises illustrates the degree to which the image of linguistic diversity among the ejpÇkouroi of the Trojans found in the Iliad had solidified within the epic tradition. In short, although the speaking of different languages occurs only occasionally in the early epic tradition, when it does it tends to serve one of several specific ends. In the Odyssey and in the Theogony, and sometimes in the Iliad, the speaking of a strange language indicates just that, strangeness, difference, and distance. Language as a marker of alterity joins Odysseus’ tale of an exotic Krete with Hesiod’s image of the horrific beast Typhoeus—and both with the description of the remote Karians in the Trojan Catalogue. The contrast between the human and the divine, a recurrent theme in the epic tradition, manifests itself through the allocation of different names to the same creature or place by men on the one hand and gods on the other. Typhoeus combines divine language with the sounds of beasts, but utters nothing understandable by humans. The special status of divine language also underlies the universally understood speech found in the Homeric Hymn to Delian Apollo, and perhaps fuels Ankhises’ suspicions about Aphrodite’s identity. The last two examples, however, also presuppose differences among human languages and bring them to the fore. The transcendence of human linguistic barriers is what makes the scene from the Hymn to Delian Apollo worthy of mention, while the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite mirrors the patterns of linguistic division between Trojan and ejpÇkouroÍ in the Iliad: Aphrodite, disguised as a Phrygian, can only communicate with Ankhises, a Trojan, because she once had a Trojan nurse who taught her his language. Overall, human linguistic variation accounts for more of the instances of linguistic diversity noted in the early epic tradition than does the human-divine dichotomy, even among examples taken from outside the Iliad . Focusing on the Iliad itself, linguistic variation arises from two motivations on the part of the poet. The first occurs widely in the epic tradition and has been noted above: linguistic difference as a marker of distance and alterity. The second is more specific to the internal dynamics of the Iliad:


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the desire to cast the Trojan host as divided and chaotic, the Akhaian as unified and organized. These artistic devices work because during the late eighth century, around the time the Iliad stabilized in its final form, both resonated with—and perhaps even contributed to—an emerging sense of Panhellenism; the audience found the linguistically homogenous Akhaians familiar, and perhaps saw an extension or idealization of their own emergent shared culture in the Akhaians’ unified cultural, social, and political community. The Panhellenism revealed by the use of language in the Iliad is, however, at an early stage of development. First, language is not the most important criterion of identity; in all three passages it is coupled with, or even subordinate to, place of origin or membership in a particular military retinue. Furthermore, never in the Iliad is there a language barrier between Akhaian and Trojan; heroes from both camps freely communicate in face-to-face encounters. Nor are the Trojans represented merely as some undifferentiated barbarian horde. Indeed, linguistic diversity among the Trojan ejpÇkouroi is neither ignored nor suppressed, and every reference to variation in language occurs within the Trojan sphere. The monolithic “barbarian,” a genus diametrically opposed to “Greek,” remains absent, awaiting the psychological and cultural upheaval triggered by the Persian Wars. The epics do, however, draw a contrast between Trojans and the Akhaians. While linguistic diversity is emphasized among the ejpÇkouroi defending Troy, it is entirely absent from the Akhaian force besieging the city. In other words, although the Iliad lacks a clearly oppositional Panhellenic identity with consistent differentiation between “Akhaian-speakers” and others, it contains a nascent Panhellenic identity based on linguistic unity, a recognition of Akhaian homogeneity of language against the linguistic diversity of the Trojan ejp Çkouroi . This linguistic situation exemplifies the early, underdeveloped Panhellenism found in the eighth century b.c.e.—a cultural synthesis still tempered by intra-Hellenic diversity and lacking systematic opposition with a non-Hellenic Other. Thus, although peoples who spoke strange and diverse languages might very well be thought disunited, chaotic, strange, and exotic, no Akhaian/non-Akhaian division in the Iliad had yet evolved to a unified “us” versus a unified “them.” Instead, the development of Panhellenism has been captured at the stage of an operationally but incompletely unified “us” versus a diverse, plural “those others.” The Greeks of the late eighth century b.c.e. shared enough to accept a common epic tradition, in which they recognized the Akhaians as an idealized vision of themselves: ordered and unified; close, native, and familiar. University of New South Wales

LITERATURE CITED Andrews, A. 1993. Phratries in Homer. Hermes 89:129–40. Cartledge, P. 1993. The Greeks: A Portrait of Self and Others. Oxford. . 1995. “We Are All Greeks”? Ancient (Especially Herodotean) and Modern Contestations of Hellenism. BICS 40:75–82.


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Barbarophonos. Language and Panhellenism in the Iliad

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